Journey to the Center of a Witch's Universe!
by CutewithAcapital-Q
Summary: What Happens when harry and ron find a way to get into the Girls Dormitory! Don don Donnnn! Extremely silly,takes place in sept. sixth year! Feel free to enjoy and hopefully review after! Rated M for all the Bloody Knickers! 1200 hits!


Cool 3**00** hits ! I love you all! Especially the Reviewers DracoGinnyoddbutperfect, EmpressesPenguinOfTheUniver..., 761622, MemberoftheSugarCoatedCrew, Katharina von Valois, Romance and Musicals, wonwonluva, kira's love and My FRIEND(Him and his oh so fragile feelings) BlackHawk13 (Ppspsssss if you leave a loverly little review, your name WILL be added to the list!)

A/N: Ok this is a fic that my sisters and I though up a long while back and I finally decided to write it as a treat to them. Even if they never do actually read it.

sniffle sniffle alright I admit it! I'm not J.K. Rowling! Nothing is mine! Wahh!!

Warning: EXTREMELY SILLY- !!

Rated M for all the bloody knickers!

READ READ! ENJOY ENJOY ENJOY!! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REWIEW! please please please please please!! honestly it'll make my day!

Journey to the Center of a Witch's Universe

Sixth year September

"Awww, come on!" Ron whined after Hermione clambering into the common room.

"Ron, don't you think you're a bit old to whine?" Hermione smirked.

"No," Ron changed his voice subtly, "But I also thought you were a good person, but I guess I'm wrong there too!" he shot back.

"Oh, Ron, if you don't want to fail, then here's an idea, 'take your own notes!'" Hermione tried her best to drill the concept into his carrot-topped head.

"Hermione I think we both know I'm too far gone with our system." Ron reasoned thickly.

"WHAT SYSTEM?!" Hermione exploded, "I, being a good student, take my own notes, in class, and then spend the rest of my time nagging you two," she pointed between he and Harry, whom had just entered the common room, innocently eating a banana, thus dragging him into the argument.

"Huh," he questioned through his mouthful of banana.

"-to do the same! Until of course the next test then you're both sweeter then Honeydukes!"

"What about Honeydukes?" Harry finally swallowed, hopeful, but was still clueless to the situation.

"Exactly!" Ron was not getting her message, nor Harry's for that matter, "why would you want to mess that up?"

"Ron, do us all big favor and GROW UP!" she snapped, "Now," she continued in a much more pleasant tone, "I'm putting these somewhere you can't get to them, and then I'm going to lunch!" she smiled and turned to jog up the steps.

"Hermione!! Hermione!! Come back here, right now!" Ron tried to be authoritative, and quickly followed her up the stairs. Just as he got close enough to grab her arm, about the eighth step up, the stairs slipped away from under his feet and the flagstone melted into a slick glassy slide, bringing both Ron and Hermione back down into a jumbled mess on the carpet.

"Ronald, look what you did!" Hermione screeched while struggling to get out from under his torso.

"I'm always forgetting that happens!" Ron reflected making no effort to move.

"That's because you're a _git_!" she hissed as she violently tugged her book bag from beneath his head. She spun around before he could retaliate and raced up the reforming stairs.

"What was that?" Harry finally asked, "Oh hey, I got you that apple" he added happily extracting a red apple from his robes, and tossing it to Ron.

"Hermione's being stubborn," Ron caught the apple as he stood, "she won't let me borrow her notes for the transfigurations test we have tomorrow."

"We have a test?"

"Yes," Hermione answered for Ron, sauntering back down to the common room, "and you had better start hitting those books." She said very matter-of-factly, and swiped Ron's apple right out of his hand as she past him on the way out. She paused at the portrait hole and crunched into the apple; "If you want to pass." she concluded, her voice thick, talking around the bite.

"That's my apple!" Ron, in spite of himself, began to whine again.

"Oh Ronald, apples are for winners." She said plainly smug, before taking another bite and escaping through the portrait hole, as he moved run after her.

"_Apples are for winners," _Ron mocked nasally, "does she really think she's going to get us to study with this."

"Really," Harry agreed equally taken aback. "But all her notes are up stairs we can't climb." He analyzed, as Ron paced the room.

"Unless," Ron began quietly.

"Unless?" Harry was proud to see a solution occurring in one of their heads.

"Unless we don't climb them!"

"Well Duh…"

"No, no, no," Ron realized exactly how daft that sounded, "I mean finding a way up the stairs without touching them!"

"You mean like flying over them?" Harry was seeing the light.

"Exactly," Ron grinned slyly, which Harry mirrored, "I'll get the brooms!"

\

"I'll get the cloak!"

It seemed Ron was back in seconds, because he sprinted with sheer excitement. It was a huge under taking, after all. Not only would they be out smarting Hermione, not to mention the school founders who themselves put the jinx on the stairs, but they would be stepping foot into a world no man, not even the marauders, had dreamed of getting to.

The Girls Dormitory

The two mounted their brooms close enough together to cover both of them in the invisibility cloak. Both kicked off the ground in one motion and gently zipped up the stairwell to the sixth door, problem free. Harry used his wand to open the door and they soared over the threshold and touched down on the other side. Immediately Ron bolted the door again so no one could interrupt their infiltration. Then he stood in awe with Harry.

The room looked much like theirs. It seemed about the same size, but there were only three beds in the room, rather then five, so each girl had more space between them. The color scheme was about the same, the oak furniture; the red linens, and yet they all seemed brighter, richer. Taking a closer look at the bed posts and head rests, Harry noticed the little intricately carved flowers in the wood. Then he saw the night stand.

Each girl had one beside her bed and resembled a small desk rather, with out a chair. There were bottles of all shapes and sizes cluttering the top, holding a range of colored potions. He went to the desk with the most bottles thinking Hermione would make the most extra credit potions. Burning with curiosity, he undid the topper of one of the more exotic flasks and put it to his nose, and with one whiff of the elixir he immediately recognized the nostril incinerating fragrance of perfume. He grimaced in surprise and dropped the bottle, spilling perfume across the desk.

"Opss…" he murmured awkwardly righting the spilled bottle. This was obviously not Hermione's bed, and he searched the other desks from a distance for any sign of her presents; a stack of graded homework, a pile of S.P.E.W. badges, or at the very least an overly abused hair brush! He shrugged and continued to investigate the perfume splattered desk before him. Harry tugged the brass ring of the right hand top drawer. First he gawked in amazement. Makeup! More then any girl, he would think, would need in a lifetime; tubes of lotion, cylinders of concealers, and lipstick more scarlet then Ron's ears, at a bad moment. Application wands and over sized brushes littered the crevices between eye shadow and rouge compacts, the sight made him dizzy, or maybe it was the nauseating scent of the perfume dripping into the draw and mingling with the contents.

He shut the drawer abruptly and opened the other. It was certainly less disorderly but was far more confusing. In the corner stood the largest volume of _slick easy hair potion_ ever contained by man, and an assortment of combs and brushes lay neatly in a row. Heaps of scrunchies and hair ties cushioned the pile of clips ranging from the size of a sickle to nearly half a foot long! Of course none of this was as bewildering then the various appliances that sit in the front of the drawer. He picked up the most bizarre of the bunch, a two pronged contraption that opened and closed with bright yellow metal plates on each prong. With the rest of the draw's theme at hand he deduced this oddity had something to do with hair care. Absent mindedly he stuck a finger in the middle of the clamp and closed it. The pain was excruciating, as the metal seared his finger. Harry released a small yelp and dropped the demon machine back into the draw, then began waving his hand franticly to stop the burn. He chose not to explore the rest of this desk and slammed the drawer shut.

Ron busied himself examining the girly decorations and wall hangings. He had been initially intrigued by the different sports posters on the walls, much like the boys had in their dorm. Harry joined him in front of a poster that seemed to bewilder Ron.

"I don't get it," his brow furrowed as he analyzed the wizarding poster of a particularly handsome Quidditch player with a muscular physique, thick black locks of hair that framed a dazzling smile on his manly face, as he whizzed around the Quidditch pitch, "none of these players are really any good and neither are these teams."

"Er… Ron," Harry began delicately, "I'm not sure the girls care very much about how good these guys are at Quidditch."

"Well then why would they--OHHH," he caught the gist of Harry's words, jealously appalled, he asked, "you don't think this is Hermione's?"

"Naw," Harry waved him off, "you know her. She hates Quidditch, regardless of how players look."

"Well then how do we tell which bed is hers, we've got to find those notes, remember?"

"I don't know, I can't tell which bed is which."

"I know what you mean I wasn't expecting it to all look the same, maybe we should just riffle through their trunks." Ron suggested.

"Yeah!" Harry agreed as they rushed to the closest bed's end. At the end of the bed, was only empty carpet, "if they had trunks…"

"Well where the hell do they keep all their bloody?" Ron dropped to his knees and searched beneath the bed, "I mean their _girls!_" he pressed the matter as he resurfaced, but Harry wasn't paying much attention.

"Say Ron?"

"Huh?"

"Was there always this door here, the one beside the entrance I mean?"

"Well, we certainly don't have a door there." Ron concluded looking at the passage in question, and walked to it, "Might as well," He smiled, and turned the knob. The door swung opened before him, "I don't believe this!" he stared dumbstruck through the door way. "They have a closet!" Ron stormed over the threshold, his voice rose in appalled shock, "A walk in closest!"

"What?" Harry ventured hastily after Ron through the door, into a room that was like nothing either boy had ever seen.

Three giant oak wardrobes lined one wall of the wide hall way and the opposite wall was nearly covered with never ending lanes of skirts, blouses, shirts, and a rainbow of dress robes. In the back corner a three way mirror reflected the only boys to probably ever step foot in this room.

"All these years, we've been cheated! Why don't we have a closet?" Ron exclaimed strutting the length of the large hall, "Or a mirror?!" he paused a moment to examine himself and mumbled, "So that's what my trousers look like-"

"Ron! Snap out of it, we need those notes!" Harry reminded.

"Right, the note… the notes," Ron inspected the room, "Well I don't see her book bag any where, so you look through that wardrobe and I'll take this one."

They set out to their respective cabinets. There were two swinging doors that opened to layers of shelves each holding clean and neatly folded school robes. On the opposite side of the cabinet doors were another set of mirrors which, as it happened, the girls seemed to have fashioned the border with a collage of snapshots, stickers, small mementos, and random little doodles they made. Ron immediately figured this must have been Hermione's, by the items she had used to adorn her mirrors; particular spells and formulas for class, news paper clippings that mentioned Harry or held his photo, wizarding pictures of her cat, crookshanks, Ron and Harry though the years of their friendship, or in their Quidditch uniforms, and most unfavorable, to Ron anyhow, a muggle snapshot of her and Viktor Krum, most likely taken on the summer vacation she took to visit him, next to her Yule Ball corsage, enchanted to look as fresh as it did that night two years ago.

He confidently eyed the shelves, knowing he was on the right track, carelessly throwing pressed robes away from their resting place.

He then knelt down to the wide drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe, and yanked on the heavy brass rings. Inside was the greatest discover of Ron's life, and the holy grail of revenge.

"Harry!" Ron hollered not taking his eyes from the drawer's contents, "I think I just found Hermione's _knickers drawer_!!"

"NO!" Harry asked in shock, turning from the wall of hanging muggle clothes.

"YES!" Ron assured. Harry bounded to his side and they began digging through the colorful assortment of underwear, bras, and socks, suppressing laughter.

"This is brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, in amusement.

"Yeah, what should we do with it?" Harry asked, and began to think.

"Well I say we take the most embarrassing item and hold it for ransom for the next time she does this to us." Ron said, with a grudge.

"You lied," Harry said in a very serious tone, and then he pointed to the drawer "This is nothing. _That_ was brilliant."

"It's what I do," Ron said in mock modesty, and they sputtered with laughter.

"Hey, are you sure this is hers?" Harry picked up a particularly lacy, and rather scandalous pair of panties, with his fingers, trying to touch as little of it as possible, "I mean I know she's a girl, but even this is a bit much for _Hermione_."

"That, my friend," Ron snatched the up the bikini shorts, "Is exactly what I'm talking about," and he tucked them away to the inner pocket of his robes. "Besides this has got to be hers," Ron continued, "Look here," he lifted the tag of a pair of red knickers, "All the red ones say Tuesday, all the blue say Monday, and all the green say Thursday! She's bloody organized her knickers with the days of the week!"

"Lot's of people do that," Harry said weakly, adjusting his robes to cover the back of his trousers all the way.

"And look at her mirror. Do you think Lavender's got pictures of us?"

"Actually," Harry said vaguely interested, "She might… of you anyway."

"Hmm," Ron didn't know weather to be flattered or disturbed, "I'll have to remember that," and he went back to the black bra before him.

"Aha! See this is hers, she wrote her name on the back of the tag," He held up the tag to Harry's nose, and there on the empty space of the tag was Hermione's name in her miniscule scrawl.

"Hang on, what!" he screamed to the other side of the tag, "WHAT THE– but, but—?" Ron stuttered, incoherently.

"What is it?" Harry was trying to understand his fascination.

"Hermione wears a 34-C!" Ron finally proclaimed.

"Oh…" Ron might as well have been speaking a different language, "is that _bad_?"

"Well no actually…" Ron grinned to himself, "-but its _HERMIONE_!" he snapped out of his reverie.

"Wait Ron, can you tell me how you became such a bra expert?"

"Oh… Er, well," Ron's face flushed scarlet, "Once Fred and George locked me in bathroom at home, and the only thing to read in there was Ginny's _Witch Weekly_. It had an article on this stuff," he then added mildly interested, "Oh, and I also learned how to make my own facial, I'm combination skin, if it ever comes up," Harry only stared back in utter dismay, and Ron cleared his throat loudly, and continued in hearty over compensation, "Anyway, I just can't believe Hermione wears a C, I mean I it is on the bigger side of the sizes."

"Well you've got to cut her some slack, it's not like we've ever looked there," Ron didn't reply only successfully hiding his blush, "And let's face it Hermione's no Lavender, always wearing her shirts down to here!" Harry tugged his own collar down to his bellybutton.

"Very true," Ron chuckled in agreement, and then made an uneasy face to the bra still in his hand, "You know, this is kind of gross when you think about it."

"Yeah I know," Harry frowned as well, and Ron looked slyly between the bra and Harry.

"Think Fast!" Ron tossed the bra on Harry's face.

"YICK!" Harry pulled the bra away, and shoved an arm load of Hermione's undergarments back. Ron quickly resorted to Lavender's open wardrobe and threw her clean robes in return fire, and then burst open her bottom drawer filled with thongs, and much larger sized bras. Soon enough all hell broke loose as every piece of clothing in the closet was inevitably torn from its hanger or shelf. It seemed to rain blouses, robes, skirts, lingerie, and pants.

Harry chased Ron out the closet door and around the room, with a fist full of boy-shorts. They stampeded over the whole room, jumping over beds bumping into more desks, probably ever breaking a few things along the way. Not seeing where he was going Ron tripped, over what seemed to be a big lump in the wood floor, and was thoroughly pummeled with underwear. Out of breath and out of ammo they called a truce and careless cast the excess garments about the room, which clung to their body by static. Ron, once unburied from the underwear, tried to stand, but again he fell over the lump in the floor.

"Honestly, it amazes me that you can even ride a broom, the way you trip," Harry laughed as he helped Ron up.

"It's not me!" Ron pressed, getting on all fours to find the offending lump, "There's something in the floor."

"Right," Harry said incredulously, looking at the quite flat ground.

"Ahah!" Ron exclaimed after a moment, clutching his hands around the air near the floor. As he moved his hands, what looked like a chunk of the hardwood floor moved with them, "the little sneak disillusioned her bag!" he heaved the lump of floor up on to a bed for farther inspection. Ron was sure to keep a hand on the bag as not to loose it in the rich bedspread it immediately began to mimic. Harry began waving his wand trying to remember how to make it reappear.

"Let me try," Ron impatiently pulled out his wand, but he was just as ineffective, "what was it… revlum… ravioli…?" he scratched his head with the tip of his wand.

"Try Reveal…-io," Harry suggested.

"Please Harry," Ron said arrogantly, with a bossy twang that was not uncommon to Hermione's tone, "it's a _spell_, you can't just add '-io' to any word and suddenly it's magic!"

Harry shrugged and smartly flicked the bag with his wand and, in spite of Ron's put-down, optimistically cried, "_Revealio_!"

When nothing happened, "See-," Ron began to gloat, but just as the deep scarlet melted from the bag and replaced by the soft tan material.

"See!" Harry mocked smugly.

"Okay, fine, the important thing is that we can get the notes," Ron reminded him of the mission at hand.

"Right!" Harry confirmed.

Ron undid the strap that barely held the top closed, and they discovered why. Hermione somehow managed to cram what seemed to be about 2/3's of the school's book supply into this very unfortunate bag.

"Dear God how, the Hell, does she even walk, with all this on her _shoulder_?" Ron's brow rose into his hair with horror of all the books, "Alright," he shook it off, "find those notes!" they dug in to the bag. Harry busied himself leafing Hermione's Transfigurations book from beginning to end, looking for papers she may have tucked away between the pages, as he did with his own, seldom taken, notes. Ron was flicking swiftly through a pile of loose parchment wedged in the back of the satchel. He stopped. His eyes zeroed in on the paper's title, 'Transfigurations Notes' and then a list of dates from the week before. The search was over. The notes seemed to glow in his hands as he jubilantly showed Harry.

"Come on, let's get out of here!" Ron started for the cloak and brooms.

"Wait! What about the mess?" Harry called after him, "I reckon they're going to guess someone was in here."

"We don't have time," Ron checked his watch, seeing the free period tick to a close.

"Ron, there are knickers everywhere!"

"Well… er… lets put all Hermione's stuff back in the bag, so it just looks like some first years came through here."

"Yeah Ron, because _all_ first girls like throwing knickers and bras at each other." Harry rolled his eyes incredulously.

"Well, what do you want from me?" Ron began crushing notes back into the book bag and then clumsily piling the loose book over them, "Besides, up till us a boy has never gotten in here, they'll cross us off the suspect list first."

"Okay, but just to be safe, give me the notes, I want to duplicate them, cause if she sees them missing, she might think something of it."

"Good idea," Ron passed the notes to Harry, and he hastily ran his wand over them muttering the charm. Then he flicked it in the air and at the tip popped a brand new set, identical to the ones in his hand. Ron snatched them from the air and smothered them in to the congested book bag and strapped it closed once again.

Harry then shot-put the bag across the room and buried it in clothes so it wouldn't show the disengaged disillusion charm.

He skidded under the cloak with Ron and once again kicked off the ground, and exited the room. They sped silently down the stairs, across the common room and back up to the boys' dormitory, when coincidentally, the girls returned through the portrait hole. They chucked the brooms and cloak into their room, and caught their breath just in time for a distinctive cry of traumatized disgust fill the entire Gryffindor tower. The boys balanced themselves on the walls of the stairwell, as to not fall over laughing, as they listened to the screeches Parvati and Lavender voiced in confusion and anger. Once they composed them selves well enough, Ron and Harry sauntered, blissfully unaware, back into the common room, in time to meet the girls tumbling furiously down their stairs.

"What's up?" Ron pretended to be confused.

"WHAT'S UP??" Lavender shrieked in amazement.

"Someone's been all through our stuff!" Parvati growled.

"No!" Harry and Ron gasped in unison.

"Yeah! It looks like a tornado hit the room!"

"Oh, do you have any idea who could have done that?" Harry asked carefully.

"NO!" Lavender answered, disgruntled, Ron and Harry let out internal sighs of relief.

"But they threw all our clothes, all over the place, and went through our desks!" Parvati complained.

"How do you know they went through your desks?" Harry couldn't help questioning the factor he contributed to.

"Because one of my perfume bottles in over turned and it's leaking into makeup—that's completely ruined!" she sobbed, "—and they turned on my hair straighten-er on, it scorched the entire drawer!"

"Oh that's what that was!" Harry realized what that burning contraption was, but saw he had his guard down, "We- we—er smelt something burning earlier."

"Anyway, have you seen Hermione?" Parvati asked bluntly.

"Not since lunch, you don't think she did that?" Ron defended, just in case.

"No, we just want to tell her and then find McGonagall together," Parvati explained.

"Ah, well, good luck with that," Ron smiled sincerely, "We've got to study."

The girls laughed, Lavender's a bit higher pitched and over-exaggerated.

"Oh, Ron you're so funny!" she hit him on the arm playfully.

Ron gave a nervous little laugh, not understanding what was so hilarious. He was actually going to study, after all the work he went through to retrieve them, he had to use those notes. He wasn't just going to use them; he was going to study to get a passing grade! It was all in the plan he was creating….as he went along.

The girls left and Harry and Ron set to work at a close table, taking turns reading the stolen notes.

Hermione finally returned apparently still benign to the wreckage. Ron quickly put a chess board, in mid-play, over the notes.

"Hey Hermione," Ron lazily waved.

"Hi, I see your still aren't studying," she motioned to the chess board in disapproval.

"Ron," Harry smiled politely rehearsed, "would you like to explain?"

"Gladly Harry," Ron smiled back equally rehearsed, "you see Hermione," he began very diplomatically, "Harry and I have decided to protest your outlandish accusation at our studying habits-"

"Habits?" Hermione interjected, "I'd give you notes and you would even look at them until ten seconds before the test!"

"-By not studying at all to prove that we don't need your ruddy notes!" Ron continued as if she had spoken, trying to keep his tone level.

"Please! You couldn't even get an A with my notes."

"That's another thing," Ron's voice took on a childish and stubborn note, "we don't appreciate your doubt in our magical knowledge. Harry is… well Harry. And I, unlike either of you, was well aware of being a wizard for my whole life and lived with six older brothers that did it all before me. I think that should count for something."

"So let me get this straight, you both are _not _going to study to spite me for not giving you the notes, and yet magically are getting outstandings on the test that you _didn't study for_, thus proving my point that you don't need my notes at all."

"The question still stands weather or not you believe in us?"

"If you study at all," Hermione looked for the guidelines of the question.

"No,"

"Then no,"

"Then I don't forgive you,"

"Ron if you want the notes, I'm not letting you—Forgive _Me! _For WHAT?"

"For being so hurtful."

"WHAT!"

"And we don't want your notes, if you don't believe in us at all,"

"What are you doing here anyhow Hermione?" Harry simply wondered for the sake of stopping the fight before things got violent. He looked at his watch for effect.

"Oh, shoot!" Hermione grabbed Harry's wrist and jerked his arm across the table, and the game board knocking over pieces, "I'm going to have to run to my next class," she franticly read the watch and then threw Harry back into his chair before she dashed to the girls' staircase, "if I 'm late its on your heads!"

"Three- two-one…" Ron counted down as she disappeared up the stairwell.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Hermione's ear piercing scream wrenched the boys into laughter. Hermione tripped back down the stairs, eyes (And somehow hair) huge with terror. She had completely forgotten her bag in the dormitory, and was sputtering gibberish at the speed of light, to the boys.

"DISASTER!... WRECKED!... MESS!... KNICKERS!!" She stopped only to hyperventilate a few breathes and then sprinted out the portrait hole, down the corridor, yelling, "Professor!!" leaving Ron and Harry to writhe on the floor in hysterics.

They didn't see any of the sixth year girls for the rest of the day. Hermione did not appear at breakfast the next morning, either. The Gryffindor's were a buzz with the news. Harry and Ron heard all the ridiculous rumors circulating the school, and did all they could to keep from bursting, especially when Luna Lovegood disclosed her theory that she was positive some Puckered Martipaynes had run rapid searching for Dillighosh, a popular ingredient found in wizarding makeup, and according to Luna, the Martipayne's choice meal.

On the way to Transfigurations they were choosing not to tell Hermione they knew about the scandal, let alone caused it. Hermione was already in her usual seat in front of the class, but nearly a completely different person.

She was _sleeping_, for starters, slumped over her desk, with an elbow leaning on her books and her head resting heavily in her hand. Her hair was an even bigger, more of a tangled mess then usual. Her uniform looked as if she had taken it from Ron's wardrobe instead of her own. It seemed a size too large and rather wrinkled.

"Harry," Ron looked on the disheveled girl, and asked awestruck disgust, "_What is that_?"

"I…don't… know," Harry whispered tentatively, his brow furrowed, as Hermione's head teetered lightly in her hand, and then toppled into the crook of her arm, "but I think it's a sleep," he added, as if she were a dangerous animal.

"I was almost certain it was Hermione," Ron said transfixed with fascination, "but she would never sleep in class. Even if McGonagall's not jabbering on."

"Well, there is a first time for everything," a new brisk and strict whisper entered the conversation from behind, "Mr. Weasley." Ron's ears flushed at the sound of his name so formal.

Harry spun around to meet the belligerent gaze of the Transfigurations professor, but Ron's feet were glued to the floor with embarrassment.

"Now will you be taking your seats, or will you be standing as I _jabber on_?" Ron grimaced as she said the last words coldly. They shuffled to their seats on each side of Hermione. It was only then when they realized the whole class was laughing at them, the rest of Ron's face matched his ears. Professor McGonagall marched to the front of the room to prepare the tests; the students began talking amongst themselves.

"Hermione, wake up," Harry shook her on the shoulder, but she only shifted her head into a more comfortable angle.

"Hang on, I want to try something," Ron chuckled with an idea, he hovered over her ear smirking he said, "Hey Hermione, their passing back tests, and I can see yours, but what's that, it looks like you got an _A_!"

"NO!" she was startled awake, but then drowsily regained her conscience, "What, what, where am I?"

"In Transfigurations." Ron chortled.

"Did they take the test with out me?"

"Hermione would you relax?" Ron rolled his eyes, of course that's the first thing she asks.

"Don't worry," Harry reassured, "they haven't even passed it out yet."

"You look awful," Ron commented tactlessly, "what happened? You get in a fight!"

"No," Hermione yawned, "someone tore apart our room yesterday! I spent the whole night sorting my stuff and counting it all to make sure nothing was taken."

"Really?!" Harry was now a professional in faux shock, "was anything taken?"

"No, nothing of mine anyway," obviously the frilly undergarment, now in a small compartment in Ron's trunk, was seldom brought to her mind, much less her body.

"Do you have any clue who did it?" Ron was hoping not.

"No there's no way to tell but we came up with a bunch of ideas." She rubbed the sleep from her eye and then the other, "we thought maybe Peeves, but there are charms against him at the portrait. Then well boys can't get up the stairs." Ron and Harry gave significant looks to one another around her head, "so we figure it must have been the first years." She said very matter-of –factly.

"Are you serious!?" Harry dropped the ball in surprise, but Hermione only took it for worry.

"Well it's between them and the Martipaynes," Hermione laughed weakly, "I ran into Luna coming down here, and she told me her 'theories'." Hermione explained rolling logical eyes.

"So then why are you so tired?" Ron directed the conversation away from Harry.

"Well, McGonagall told us, because the mess was so mixed, we couldn't magically summon everything back to place. And so we had to sort it by hand."

"But you were gone all day, can't have that many clothes to sort." Hermione had no idea how well he knew this.

"Oh, I didn't," she pressed darkly, "I finished by the end of the class hours. But of course Lavender and Parvati chose last night to regress to the first years' level, and started throwing clothes everywhere again. Then the better part of my night involved trying to study, and being the third person perspective of arguments over who stole who's top. I fell asleep reading notes, then when I found I slept through breakfast, I pulled the first set of robes I found, I think they're Lavender's, from yesterday." she said, with a grimace, as she began rolling the sleeves to fit her arm length.

"I'm sorry Hermione," Harry patted her shoulder.

"Not as sorry as I am," Hermione bit her lip, "You're probably, going to fail, not studying and all."

"Hermione! Why are you still doubting us?" Ron pressed.

"Fine, Ron okay, I'm sorry for springing this whole embargo on you."

"And…" Ron waited.

"And… I believe in your magical knowledge," Hermione rolled her eyes

"And…" Harry waited on her other side.

"And… I'll let you use my notes--"

"Yes!" the boys slapped high fives over her head.

"IF," Hermione continued, "You're already passing the class."

"What's passing?" Ron ventured cautiously.

"An O on a test"

"A" Harry said.

"E" Hermione tried

"_A_" Ron repeated.

"Fine" Hermione agreed, as McGonagall began passing out the tests, "as long as you you're not a prat about it and hold off until the last minute."

"I am not a pr-" Ron stopped himself, before starting a war when he just won a battle. A test appeared before and all was silent as they began to write.

The rest of the day faded past them. Harry and Ron would accidentally let little things slip from the day before, and Harry told Hermione he had scorched his hand testing a potion, rather then the less dignified happenings with Parvati's straightner, and Ron mentioned the Quidditch players from the posters, only to be relieved that they belonged to Hermione's roommates.

The next morning, Hermione was much more herself, and wearing her own clothes. They were all together for breakfast, when McGonagall marched in an even brisker manner then usual.

"Mr. Weasley," she announced, as Ron was reaching for the fruit bowl, hoping to get the last pear (once more Hermione claimed the last apple, now sitting idly beside her plate).

"Yes," He cringed away at her tone.

"Come with me," she beckoned forebodingly. Ron grimaced, it was 7 a.m. what could he possibly have done already. Hermione and Harry shared confused frowns of alarm, as their eyes followed him to the back of the Great Hall. She seemed to be asking him a series of questions, and each time Ron responded her expression almost lighten from disappointment to awe and confusion. In the end McGonagall handed two pieces of parchment, and sent him back to his seat. Ron returned with an amazed stare on his face as he glanced between the parchments.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked first.

"Yesterday's test," Ron replied carefully.

"What happened, did you _fail_?"

"She didn't boot you off the team!?" Harry, the Quidditch captain, dreaded the idea of losing the best keeper the team ever had. (No offense Oliver)

"No," he spat to Harry then continued in a meeker tone, "I… er… I passed." He gulped nervously.

"Oh well that's goo-" she began airily, "HOW?"

"What do you mean 'how?'?" Ron snapped angerly.

"I mean how did you pass without studying at all?"

"Hermione you're doubting me again."

"Ronald, did you cheat?" she ignored his accusation.

"What? No" Ron was hurt; "you know I would never cheat, _ever_!"

"Ron…" Hermione crossed her arms.

"Fine don't believe me!" he insisted, "here ask me anything I'll answer it. What do you think McGonagall was doing?" he thrust one of the parchment tests into her hands, "here use your test."

"I will," she turned the page over in her hands, "hang on, why did McGonagall give you my test back, as well?"

"Well… what really won McGonagall over was the fact that I got the bonus question… and you didn't" Hermione's body froze, "So I didn't just pass… I sorta beat your score too," he finished quickly, before flinging his arms over his head instinctively.

She didn't strike, only the shocked 'O' of her mouth widened, as her complexion paled.

"YOU WHAT!" she burst out in rage, that echoed into the corners of the hall. Hermione couldn't accept it, she snatched away Ron's test, and compared the scores. At the top of the tests were the score in bright red marker, Hermione's was 100 but Ron's did indeed say 101.

"Believe me now?"

"You beat me," she whimpered.

"Only by one point," Ron added helplessly.

"Harry!" Hermione grabbed his shirt dramatically, "Ron Beat Me!" she was awestruck, her lip trembling.

"I know I know," Harry comforted her; "it surprised me too!"

"But no one ever beats me!" she suddenly turned back to Ron who was beginning to snigger and picking up the apple from the side of her plate, "How did you beat me!?" she demanded ravenously, "wait what are you doing?"

"I'm taking my apple," Ron answered.

"That's my apple," Hermione grumbled.

"Ohhh, Hermione," Ron said sympathetically, "apples are for winners."

A/N Thank you soo much! What did you think! Like? Hate? Just tell me something!!

I told you it was silly!!(I told you something! Your turn!! Please Review!)


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